Love in Bloom
by EggDropSoup
Summary: He felt a flicker of anger rise up in him as he set his teeth and marched forward. Intent on confronting the boy that had the audacity to set up a flower shop right next door to his house. For how dare he be the one to start growing flowers in Haruka's dead, dead town when Haruka had spent all these years ensuring that it remained desolate?


X posted to AO3 under same title/username. Original concept taken, with permission, from dahliadenoire. Please check out her art (link in the profile!) it is stunning! She's so talented and I'm so grateful to her for letting me take her idea and write it out.

Beta: Eclst (check her out at her blog, also in profile!)

* * *

"I didn't tell you, Haruka," his grandmother said while they set the table for dinner. She grilled mackerel for him again, and while he was not interested in the vegetable side dishes she placed in the center, he figured he'd indulge her in a few bites of it. Just for today. "I received flowers when I was at the doctor's today," she told him.

She slowly shuffled over to the kitchen to take up a thin vase holding three, dainty gardenias. With both hands, she set them down carefully and positioned the vase so it was between both their place settings. "They make a fine addition to our meal. Don't they look lovely?"

Haruka eyed them uninterestingly, but had to admit the flash of red was a bright contrast to the white ceramic bowls.

"A sweet boy gave them to me," his grandmother continued, reached over to brush the tops of the flowers gently with her fingers. "He was in the lobby with his father, coming to visit his mother, you see. She was still recovering from giving birth to twins. He saw me, and asked if I might want one. I tried to tell him, 'No, those should go to your mother, young man!' But he insisted that I take three! My goodness," she laughed. She shook her head fondly from recalling the incident and looked down at him. "He was about your age, Haruka. I wonder if you two would get along."

 _Unlikely_ , he thought, but gave a soft hum of consideration as his grandmother eased onto the mat beside his at the low table. The children at his elementary school were loud and obnoxious. They lacked awareness of personal space and talking with them was too much effort. If this boy was anything like them, Haruka was convinced that they would definitely _not_ get along.

"Don't give me that look," she admonished with a wag of her finger at him. She could always tell what he was thinking. She told him once that it was because he so closely resembled his grandfather, but Haruka was sure it was because of something else: his grandmother's own willingness to better understand him. "You're on your own too often. It can't be good for you to be around an old woman all the time. You should try to make friends with the other children at school."

 _Why?_ He wanted to ask. He liked his grandmother and their house. Liked the quiet; liked the way the soft breeze passed through their open shoji doors in the summer, liked the neighborhood cats that passed by sometimes. Just like this, he had no want for anything else.

She watched him closely, and a sad smile touched her lips, so lightly that it was barely there at all. "You see, Haruka. It could be soon, that one day I might not be here anymore."

* * *

Anger. Haruka was filled with it. It coiled deep down in his stomach and spread to his heart, seeped out to his fingers and toes. It was like every part of his body was charged with it, his blood raced and senses buzzed. However, there was no outlet and he could only glare at the memorial stone before him with clenched fists to fight off the snarl that wanted to burst out.

The extended family had already left after the wake. Many didn't even stay for the kokubetsu-shiki, but Haruka had remained through it all. He remembered the blur of black suits and black kimonos, the picking of the bones, and placing the urn under the stone monument where his grandfather's ashes also lay. His grandmother's name had already been engraved on the stone, beside her husband's, in red ink. Now, it was black and nondescript like all the others around them.

Incense was offered, water given, and flowers placed. His parents were speaking with another relative nearby, but Haruka wasn't listening. His eyes caught sight of the flowers, red gardenias, just like that time ago.

His anger flared when he remembered, and he fixed his glare on them instead. How could there be such bright flowers when all he felt was this long-standing ache? He wished then, with all his might, that there were no more flowers. No more plants and trees. He wanted everyone else to feel the stark unhappiness that he was feeling. To know the pain that came from losing someone so important.

He reached out and touched the flowers briefly, wished for it all to fade away.

"Haruka, it's time to go now," his mother called, standing beside his father. He cast one last glare to the flowers before he turned and followed them. They didn't hold hands on the way back to his grandmother's house and Haruka didn't expect them too. Neither was he surprised when they told him that they'd be headed back to Tokyo in the next week. He wouldn't be going with them.

At their spot in front of the stone monument, the flowers were now bent over, withered and fading to dust.

* * *

Haruka was tired. It was late afternoon, and he was walking back to his house alone, having just finished his shift at work. The bag on his shoulder was light, containing only a sketchbook and his apprentice chef uniform. The restaurant he worked at had been bustling with activity today and he hoped that the commute home wouldn't take too long. Familiar faces greeted him from the neighboring businesses as he stepped along the sidewalk and he nodded obligingly to each of them. He had grown up in this town, mostly raised by his late grandmother and over the years nothing had changed.

As he headed back to his empty, old house he had only one thought- a nice, long soak in the bath, followed by a serving of grilled mackerel for dinner as he watched the evening news. It wasn't much, and he was sure that if his grandmother were still alive she would scold him for eating the same thing all the time, but it was what he liked. And no one could say that Nanase Haruka was known for doing anything that he didn't want to do.

As he drew closer to his neighborhood, the sidewalk and road grew less crowded. There weren't many people who walked about in the quiet, residential areas as opposed to the market and business districts and Haruka liked that just fine. He disliked crowded and loud places. It was the main reason he had refused to follow his parents to Tokyo after his grandmother's passing, and that, along with the easy familiarity of the town, was one of the reasons he still remained there. He passed one street after another, enjoying the quiet and almost completely empty streets as he neared his destination.

It was then that Haruka saw it. A girl, wearing her middle school uniform, was carrying a bright, yellow-colored flower.

He frowned as he watched her skip along the road, holding the flower securely in her hands. When she passed him by, he saw one last flicker of color from the flower before she was too far down the road to see. Haruka stood there, staring after her and he felt a sense of unease at the unusual sight. Plants and flowers did not exist in his town. He had cursed Iwatobi years ago and since then, all the remaining plants and trees had either died or faded away.

He shook his head, deciding that the flower he saw must have been something someone had brought in from outside the town. In that case, the flower wouldn't last a day. The curse would take care of it and any others too.

Satisfied, Haruka focused his gaze forward only to stop again in surprise as he stared into the window of a nearby house. In the window, there were three red roses resting in a tall vase. The sight caused him to examine the street before him again in alarm. Haruka quickly noticed another house a few feet down had potted plants decorating its steps and he could only look around in puzzlement as more plants and flowers came into view. No one was around- no visible source to indicate where the plants and flowers had come from. But it was clear that they hadn't been there earlier that morning. He would have noticed them when he had left for work.

He wasn't left long to wonder about the plants' sudden appearance, however. Almost immediately, Haruka heard a light, masculine voice say, "Here is the daffodil bouquet you asked for. I hope you enjoy them."

Haruka started, turning suddenly to look where the voice had come from. He hesitated a moment, then cautiously took a few steps forward until he reached the end of the street, peering around the building that sat where the main road splintered off.

There, by the steps leading up to his house, he saw an explosion of color. There were plants and flowers everywhere. Entire rows were laid out in front of the old building and there were even some placed on small tables and makeshift display stands. He barely recognized the building as it was now, and he definitely didn't recognize the young man standing in the middle of all the vegetation, carrying on a conversation with an older woman.

Haruka couldn't see the boy's face. He was standing too far to the side and his face was obscured, but Haruka could see him extending a small bouquet to the woman who gently cradled them in her arms, careful not to jostle them.

There, he had found the culprit. An inconspicuous looking young man that was taller than himself, but still seemed to be around his age, Haruka observed bitterly. The boy appeared way too comfortable and at ease, his arms moving in fluid grace as he spoke with the female customer. Like he had no cares or worries in the world.

He felt a flicker of anger rise up in him as he set his teeth and marched forward. Intent on confronting the boy that had the audacity to set up a flower shop right next door to his house. For how dare he be the one to start growing flowers in Haruka's dead, dead town when Haruka had spent all these years ensuring that it remained desolate?

Finally, he was standing behind the boy, who was now bidding the female customer goodbye. Seemingly unaware of the ominous presence behind him. "Please come again!" the boy called after the woman, and his voice was so joyful, so infectiously happy that Haruka's gloom dampened with mild curiosity. _Just who was this guy?_

Without warning, the boy spun around quickly and Haruka jerked back out of reflex in order to avoid the collision and he felt two hands clasp his shoulders as if to steady him. He scowled at just how outrageous this all was, and turned back towards the boy, fully intent on reprimanding him for not looking where he was going.

His eyes shot up, and he froze, catching his breath.

Standing before him was a tall and striking boy. He was slightly tan and broad shouldered, with long arms and big hands. The boy was wearing only a simple cream-colored shirt and jeans, the dark blue apron he wore across his front was slightly smudged with dirt and the unmistakable form of a notepad appeared in the front pocket. The boy did not seem to be bothered by the cold gloomy weather surrounding the dead town as everything he wore was airy and light. The list of grievances sitting atop his tongue fell away and Haruka paused a moment longer as he took the sight of the boy in. The face that looked down at him… was incredibly lovely.

It was soft and handsome, with a strong jaw that seemed to round out at the edges and was framed with light, fluffy brown hair. Two bright, downturned green eyes blinked at him with mild surprise and Haruka felt himself stare back as if in a daze, unable to move away. However, those eyes weren't the most distinguishing feature of that face.

The boy was smiling, and the effect of that smile seemed to radiate outward, making everything around them glow pleasantly.

Haruka felt his hands clench at his sides instinctively. The bag on his shoulder felt heavier now, and he was aware of the sketchbook just inside. He wanted to take it out and capture the scene before him, commit every detail to memory about that smile. That face.

"Ah!" the boy gasped, suddenly aware of his hands and he withdrew them from Haruka's shoulders bashfully. When there was space between them again, the surprise on the boy's face fell away and he sounded slightly troubled as he said, "I'm so sorry! Uh…Are you alright?"

Wordlessly, Haruka found himself nodding in the affirmative before his brain could catch up with him on what just happened. _Why was he just standing there again?_ "Yes," he finally gasped out and the other boy sighed in relief.

"I'm so glad," he breathed, hand resting over his heart. The corners of his mouth dimpled in an easy half-smile, and there was a flicker of something creeping into that light, pleasant voice that continued with, "My family just moved to this town recently and I'm still getting used to it. I'm afraid I've become a little absentminded," he admitted shyly—a complete contrast to his tall stature and easily the most adorable sight Haruka had ever seen. "Do you also live near here?"

"Yes," Haruka's mouth answered without his permission, because apparently that was the only word his brain synapses were allowing to be processed at the moment. His gaze inadvertently flickered up the stairs to where his house stood. The very place he had been intending to go to from the start.

The boy followed his line of sight and clasped his hands together excitedly. "Ah! So close! We're neighbors then!" Completely unaware of how his open friendliness was throwing Haruka for a loop. He couldn't believe the boy just said that and with such clear sincerity. Like they were already friends and hadn't just met for the first time. He didn't even know this boy's name!

But the boy didn't seem to be at all uncomfortable with them being on unknown terms, because he was still smiling brilliantly at Haruka as if they weren't strangers at all. _Maybe the reason he's comfortable with talking to people is because he's so big,_ he mused. Blue eyes traced the boy's frame appreciatively. _Broad shoulders. Toned arms fitted snugly in their shirt's sleeves._ _Lovely_. _Or it could that soft, honest smile and earnest eyes._ Again, _lovely_.

"Well, I hope to see you again…Mr..?" the boy trailed off, looking at him expectantly.

 _Does he want to know my name?_ The thought shot through his mind. Nervous now, Haruka could feel his face heating up from embarrassment, and he really didn't want to stay there on the street any longer. He was sure he looked ridiculous, conversing with his new neighbor while looking like a flustered fool.

Instead of answering the boy, Haruka gave a curt bow, a mumbled "goodbye", and backed quickly away while trying to smoothly step onto the stairs. He made it easily to the first step, but in his hurry he tripped over the second and stumbled. He heard a distant and concerned, "Oh, please be careful!" from the boy down the stairs and hearing his voice only made Haruka hike up the remaining stairs as quickly and carefully as he could. _Pay attention!_ He mentally berated himself on the way up, not realizing he had made it up the stairs or to his house until he had shut the door behind him.

As soon as the lock caught in the latch, Haruka leaned his back against the door. His bag slid off his shoulder to the floor and his hand came up to clutch at the front of his shirt, right above the heart. He could feel it racing underneath his clenched fist, knew that the blush on his face still lingered even after the multitude of deep breaths he took to fight against it.

Nanase Haruka hadn't wanted for anything all these years. So long as he could eat mackerel and swim when he liked, he was at peace with being alone. But seeing that boy, with his bright, open smile and hearing his voice, so soft and inviting. It all changed everything.

 _I must have him._ His hand clenched tighter in his shirt, and he could feel the sharp pressure of his thumbnail against his chest. For the first time since the passing of his grandmother, Haruka _wanted._


End file.
